Seasons Out of Time
by Chanel19
Summary: Takes place six months after Lead Me Through the Fire. Hermione needs to attend a funeral and Ron isn't happy about it.
1. A Passing Breeze Filled with Memories

Chapter 1: A Passing Breeze Filled with Memories

It was snowing when Hermione made her way toward The Leaky Cauldron to meet Ron for lunch. She wasn't sure why she had suggested lunch. That was stupid. Her stomach was knotted in a tense ball, which was only made worse by the letter she'd just received at work. The owl that brought it looked about ready to drop when he'd arrived, so she knew he'd come a long way. She'd given the poor bird two treats and some water before she sent him to the owlry.

She had recognized Viktor's handwriting on the envelope, firm thick strokes with a quill, the writing of man who knew what he had to say and said it well. She hadn't spoken to him or corresponded with him since last summer at the World Cup. She couldn't imagine why he was writing now, and clearly that owl hadn't been in England. She could only guess he was writing from Bulgaria, which was unusual, since he'd been living here and playing for an English team for several years now.

It was the contents of the letter that made her decide to walk from the Ministry building all the way to The Leaky Cauldron rather than Apparate. She needed the time to clear her head and decide how to approach Ron with this new information. As if what she originally had to tell him wasn't awkward enough, now there was this. _When it rains, it pours_, Hermione thought, _or in this case drops great loads of snow. Why the hell am I out in this?_

She stamped her feet and shook snow from her cloak before hanging it on a peg in the entranceway of the bar. She was trying to get all the snow out of her hair when she spotted Ron tucked away at a corner table staring at a menu with a pint of ale in front of him. She made her way over to him, jostling past the lunch crowd.

When he saw her, he stood and pulled out a chair for her, kissing her as she moved to sit down. "You're frozen," he said as he came out of the kiss.

"I decided to walk," Hermione said. A large teapot was floating around the room. She picked up the cup in front of her and held it out. The teapot sailed toward her and filled it.

"In the snow?" Ron asked. "What on earth for?"

Hermione took a sip of her tea and cleared her throat. "To clear my head, I suppose."

Ron sat back in his chair and looked at her for a moment before saying, "I don't like the sound of that. What's happened?"

Hermione pushed her damp hair off her forehead. "Well, I'm thinking of taking a sabbatical from the Ministry, and I need to go to a funeral."

Ron looked alarmed. "What? Who died?"

Hermione shook her head. "You don't know him."

Ron took a swallow of his ale. "All right, start at the beginning."

The waitress came over then and asked if they were ready. Ron ordered bangers and mash; Hermione asked for a Cornish pasty with mushy peas on the side. When the waitress left, Hermione turned back to Ron.

"Let's just go in order of events alright, otherwise, we're going to get bogged down."

"Alright then," Ron said and took another swig of ale.

"Professor McGonagall, or I guess I should say Headmistress McGonagall, wrote me yesterday. Something rather unexpected happened at Hogwarts."

"Are you talking about Binns?"

"Yes, you knew?"

Ron laughed, "Harry told me. I can't believe the old windbag finally passed over."

Hermione smiled and sipped her tea. "Well, it's left them in a bit of a lurch coming as it has in the middle of the school year."

"Yeah, Harry said right now they just aren't teaching History of Magic, but that's no solution."

"Right, they need a history professor."

Ron laughed. "Maybe they'll get one that's alive." He stopped laughing suddenly. "Hang on, you aren't thinking of taking the job, are you?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows and sipped her tea.

"Really?" He shook his head. "I could see you teaching Transfiguration or Charms, but History of Magic? Won't that be dead boring?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It was only dead boring because a dead man taught it. I think I'd rather like it actually. I've had loads of ideas ever since she suggested it."

"What made McGonagall think of you?" Ron asked.

The waitress brought their food then.

Hermione poked at her mushy peas with her fork. "I ran into her at the Ministry a few weeks ago. We talked for awhile and I mentioned that I had considered teaching at some point."

"I didn't know you were interested in teaching, " Ron said around a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"I've been toying with the idea for awhile now. I can't reasonably continue being an Unspeakable forever, so I've been thinking about my next move." She continued pushing the peas around on her plate.

Ron laced his fingers through hers. "I thought we were working on your next move."

Hermione dropped her eyes. "I know, but it isn't happening, and I'm wondering if my job isn't part of the problem, I mean in addition to the actual problem."

Ron rubbed his thumb along hers. "The healer said it might take awhile, it hasn't even been six months."

"Still," Hermione said, looking up at him. "I need to do something else in the meantime." Self-consciously she ran her other hand along the scar on her side. When she realized that Ron's eyes were following she moved it. "It's just a sabbatical, I'll finish out the year at Hogwarts and then, if I want to go back to the Ministry, I can."

Ron nodded. "All right then. Who died?"

Hermione sighed. "Todor Golakov."

"And that is?" Ron asked as he raised an eyebrow and unlaced his fingers from hers.

"Viktor's best friend. The funeral is in two days in Sofia." Hermione ran her finger along a groove in the tabletop and waited for the inevitable onslaught.

"Sofia, as in the city in Bulgaria, Sofia?"

"Yes," she nodded.


	2. Clauses

Chapter 2: Clauses

Ron leaned back and frowned at her. "And you need to attend his funeral, why?"

Hermione sighed. "I knew him, I knew his wife. We vacationed together. It would be wrong not to go."

"You vacationed together?" Ron's frown deepened. He couldn't believe she was bringing this up again.

"Yes, many times. When the season was over, or when he had a hiatus, Viktor always wanted to go to the south of France and relax."

Ron could feel the anger starting to build. "Was it just in the south of France that you vacationed or did they join you other places?"

Hermione furrowed her brow and he could tell she wasn't sure where his question was leading. Then her cheeks started to go pink.

"Like Amsterdam?" he pushed.

Her face was a deep red now and her mouth had thinned to a tight line. She shook her head. "What does that have to do with anything?" she hissed. "The man is dead!"

"So he was there?"

Her mouth dropped open. "I cannot believe you're doing this."

Ron leaned forward over the table. "I just want to understand why exactly you feel the need to go all the way to Bulgaria for a funeral, but I guess if you fucked the bloke that makes sense."

Hermione pushed her chair back from the table and stood. "I can't talk to you when you're like this, you're just being nasty."

Ron threw up his hands. "Well, I guess the truth hurts."

She leaned down and poked a finger at his chest. "You wouldn't know the truth if it bit you in the face. I'm not going for Todor. He's already dead. I'm going for Pietra, but I don't suppose you care that we were friends and now she's lost her husband."

Ron shook his head. "If you were such great friends, how come I've never heard of her?"

Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes. "Because just like when we broke up, all our friends took his side." She turned on her heel and stormed out of the bar.

Ron threw more galleons than were necessary on the table to cover the check and took off after her. He noticed her cloak still in the entranceway as he was walking out and thought to grab it.

Snow swirled around him as Ron stepped outside. It was coming down hard and he could barely make out the shops across the street. He thought she might head back to work, so he started running toward the Ministry of Magic, slipping and sliding as he went. He certainly hoped she had enough sense not to Apparate when she was this upset. He caught a glimpse of her a minute or two later. He was expecting to see her hunched over in the cold, but instead, she walked as if she didn't notice the snow. He meant to grab her arm only to stop her, but the sidewalk was slick and she ended up spinning around and crashing into him.

"Damn it, Ron!" She pushed away from him.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, you forgot your cloak." He tried to settle it over her shoulders, but she backed away from him. "Hermione!"

He could see she'd been crying and she angrily pushed the tears off her cheeks as she glared at him. "What!"

He held the cloak out to her. "I'm sorry."

She pulled on the cloak and began to shake snow out of her hair. "I don't understand you. I thought we were past this."

"Look, I just don't like the idea of you going to Bulgaria, all right?"

She looked up at him. "No, it's not all right. How long were you with Michelle?"

Ron was thrown off guard by the question. "What?"

"Michelle, the girl whose jumper you gave me to wear to your parent's last Christmas. How long were you with her?"

"I don't know," Ron said awkwardly. "Six or seven months, I guess."

"Did you go out with any of her friends? People you regularly met for drinks or dinner?"

Ron shrugged. "Some."

"If one of them died, would you go to the funeral?"

"I don't know, maybe, but it would be right here in town," Ron said, flabbergasted that she didn't see his point on this.

"What difference does that make?"

"Hermione, Bulgaria is – "

"A few minutes by portkey," Hermione finished for him.

"It's still different," Ron insisted.

"How?"

Ron shook his head. "She didn't sleep with any of those people."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "So far as you know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Hermione said. "That we don't always know what people have done."

"She wouldn't have." Ron stood firm on this.

"Oh, and how do you know?" Hermione asked bluntly.

"She's not that sort of person."

Hermione flinched as though he'd struck her. "Thanks," she hissed. She turned on her heel and walked away from him.

In two strides he caught up to her. "You're not being fair," Ron said.

"Fine," Hermione said, turning to face him. "What about Michelle, would you attend her funeral?"

"Well, of course," Ron said. "We were together –"

"Oh, so there's a fucking clause? If you've fucked someone, it's okay to attend their funeral?"

Ron opened his mouth, but didn't get to say anything.

"Fine," Hermione repeated. "Then this qualifies. I'm going!" She pulled her wand out and Apparated before Ron could get a word out.

Ron walked slowly back to The Leaky Cauldron. He needed to use their fireplace to get home. Hermione might be able to Apparate in the middle of an argument, but he was pretty sure he'd Splinch himself if he tried that. The snow was falling so hard he changed his mind and decided to go back to the shop and send his employees home. No one was going to be out shopping in this storm, and he could take the Floo from there.

When he finally made it back home, he was disappointed to find that Hermione wasn't there.

"Winky," he called.

A moment later the little elf appeared at his side. "Winky is here, Mr. Weezy."

"I've really put my foot in it, Winky. I need your help."

Winky looked at his shoes. "Winky will help Mr. Weezy."


	3. Pouring Like an Avalanche

Chapter 3: Pouring Like an Avalanche

It was lightly snowing in Hogsmeade when Hermione Apparated in front of The Three Broomsticks. She opened the door and made her way to the bar.

"Two fingers of fire whiskey, neat," she asked Stan the barkeep.

Stan poured her drink, but when she tried to pay he shook his head. "Your money's no good here, Mrs. Weasley."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you, Stan. Is your gaffer in?"

"She's upstairs in her office," Stan said as he wiped down the bar.

Hermione took her drink and headed upstairs.

Ginny was standing with her back to the door as Hermione came in the room. _From the back you'd never know she was pregnant_, Hermione thought. As Ginny turned around, however, there was no doubt. She looked as though she had a Quaffle under her shirt. "Hermione!" Ginny said, a smile spreading across her face. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" She caught sight of the drink in Hermione's hand and her face fell. "Wait, this isn't a pleasure sort of visit is it?"

Hermione shook her head, but didn't trust herself to speak yet.

"Sit down," Ginny said, gesturing to a sofa on the far side of the room. "What's happened?"

Hermione sat down and sipped her drink, willing herself not to cry. "Ron and I have had a row."

Ginny sat next to her. "Must have been bad to have you here in the middle of a work day in this weather."

"We met for lunch, which was stupid. I'm just so stupid." Hermione said and took another sip of her drink.

"Stupid isn't generally a word I'd associate with you," Ginny mused. "Now, Ron on the other hand."

Hermione shook her head. "No, this time it's my fault. I knew he wouldn't like this, but instead of building up to it, I just blurted it out like an idiot."

Ginny furrowed her brow. "You want to tell me what we're talking about?"

Hermione sniffled and had some more fire whiskey. "Viktor's best friend, Todor, died yesterday. I want to go to his funeral. I am going to his funeral."

"And Ron doesn't want you to go?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. He got rather nasty about it actually, which made me equally nasty and now it's just awful."

"I'm confused," Ginny said. "What is there to row about over a funeral? Is he just mad because this bloke was Viktor's friend?"

Hermione shook her head and swallowed the last of her drink. "No. I made the mistake of saying that we had vacationed with Todor and his wife, Pietra."

Ginny looked at her blankly.

"Ron leaped from that to Amsterdam." Hermione pressed her thumb against the rim of the glass.

Ginny shook her head. "Stupid git."

Hermione looked up at her, "Not so stupid. Todor was there. He was the one who rented the house."

"Oh," Ginny grimaced.

"Yeah, well, Amsterdam aside, we were friends. He and Pietra had broken up over his drug use. After…what happened he pulled himself together and got clean; they got back together and got married." There was a long pause. Hermione couldn't bring herself to say anything else, so she just stared at her empty glass. Finally, she let out a ragged sigh. "You know Viktor and I are the only ones left now."

"I don't –"

"Everyone else is dead, everyone that was in Amsterdam, they're all dead now."

Ginny sat back on the sofa. "Seriously?"

Hermione nodded. "I don't even know how to feel about that. It's just so weird. I can only imagine what Viktor must be going through. And Pietra, oh Pietra, she must be devastated."

"How did he die?" Ginny asked.

"Misadventure," Hermione said softly. "A spell backfired on him. He was always toying with magic beyond his means. I guess it finally caught up to him."

"Shit," Ginny said softly. "And the others?"

Hermione looked up at her. "From Amsterdam?"

Ginny shrugged.

Hermione sniffled again. "Well, let's see. Marianna died of an overdose and then Boyka killed herself shortly thereafter. They were lovers. And Filip, Filip was killed by a dragon, on a bet."

Ginny shook her head. "You really were out of your element weren't you?"

A single tear slipped down Hermione's cheek. "You've no idea." She closed her eyes.

"Can I ask you…?" Ginny started, but then stopped.

Hermione looked up at her.

"Why did you stay with Viktor after everything that happened?"

Hermione looked back at her empty glass. "He was kind to me, and I didn't really have anywhere else to go."

Ginny leaned in and touched her arm. "You could have come back to us."

Hermione smiled weakly and shook her head. "Ginny, until I ran into you at Madam Malkin's, no one ever offered."

"Harry sent owls, I know he did," Ginny protested.

Hermione nodded, "Yes, but only to keep me posted on how everyone was and to ask how I was doing, never to say come home. And the few times we met for dinner, there was only small talk and never any mention of Ron, and of course, you never came, so what was I to think?"

Ginny's shoulders sagged and she sighed. "It's just he was in such a state when you left, and his version of events at the time was that you left him. Not that he told you to leave, only that you left. None of us knew what was going on, Hermione. Then you turned up with Krum. I mean, looking back on it now, I can see clearly something was wrong there, but at the time we were just so focused on trying to hold Ron together…I'm sorry. I should have gone to you and gotten the whole story…I just…I'm sorry."

"It's all right. It wasn't your fault. He's your brother, of course you stood by him," Hermione said, pushing her hair back.

"I can't tell you how crazy he was," Ginny said. "Did you know he emptied your apartment out the window into the street? Every single thing in it, out the window. Fred and George were furious. They go to open up the shop in the morning and the whole street is littered with all manner of things, and Ron was upstairs in an empty apartment drunk as a skunk with all the windows open in the middle of January. What a bloody mess that was."

"I'm sorry. You all must have hated me."

Ginny shook her head. "Surprisingly, no. We all saw him out drinking without you. We knew things weren't the best between you two. I guess we all just thought you'd work through it. And as it turns out," Ginny smiled, "you did. Only it took you a might longer than we figured."

Hermione smiled. "Yes, well, we're slow that way."

"Stubborn that way, is more like it." Ginny quipped. "So what are you going to do?"

"I guess I'm going to go home and when he gets there I'll talk to him and try and make him see why I need to do this." Hermione sank her head into her hands. "It's just so frustrating. I thought we really were past this and then bang we're right back to the beginning." She let out a frustrated growl. "If Todor wasn't already dead, I'd kill him."

"What?" Ginny said, shocked.

"He's the one who charmed the camera. Perverted git. I'm sure he thought it was very funny at the time."

Ginny shrugged. "Well…"

Hermione glared at her. "Don't say it."

Ginny's smiled and patted her arm. "All right then."

Hermione sat up and leaned back against the sofa. "Enough of my drama. How are you and Harry doing?"

"Fine," Ginny said. "Although, he was having a bit of a conniption this morning over the size of the baby's room."

Hermione wasn't sure what she was getting at. "I don't –"

"He thinks it's too small."

"Too small? How much room does an infant need?"

"Well," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "You wouldn't think that much, but Harry has a bit of an issue about small rooms."

"Oh," Hermione said. "I suppose it's due to –"

"Those bloody Muggles keeping him in that cupboard under the stairs." Ginny looked up sharply, "Sorry, I don't have anything against Muggles in general, just those damn Dursley's."

"Don't be sorry," Hermione said. "I've hated them myself for years. Horrid people. It's amazing really that Harry turned out to be such a great person after having lived with that lot for so long."

"Tell me about it," Ginny sighed. "He's petrified of being a Dad, you know."

"He'll be fine," Hermione smiled.

"I know," Ginny said. "That's what I keep telling him, but he's still really nervous."

Hermione nodded. "I'm sure some of that's just normal nerves."

"He's at home reading a book on construction spells right now," Ginny said pointedly.

"Would you like me to speak to him?" Hermione asked. "Or at least help him, so he doesn't accidentally destroy your house."

Ginny covered her eyes. "If it comes to actual spell work, I promise I'll call you."

"Ron's rather good with construction charms too. He's done some lovely work converting my parents' old offices into another library."

"You need another library in your house? The one where you have your office isn't big enough?"

Hermione shrugged. "He's really been a brick about it too."

"He's a good bloke, Ron is, deep down," Ginny smiled.

"Yeah," Hermione sighed. "I should be getting home."


	4. Game On

Chapter 4: Game On

Like most people, Hermione had set up non-Apparition zones in her home, so she appeared out of the sight of her neighbors near the dustbins and walked up the stairs to the front door.

Horatio ran toward her when she opened the door, and she scooped him up and carried him into the parlor. "You're getting so big," she told the cat. He purred a response.

There was evidence that Ron was home. _The Daily Prophet_ was spread out on the ottoman in front of his favorite club chair and the fire was going. "Ron?" she called out. She pulled her cloak off and draped it over the back of the other club chair and ventured into the house. She found him in her study, sitting at her desk looking at a photo album. She was unnerved for a moment until she realized it was her old school album. "Ron?" she said again.

He looked up at her and his expression was difficult to read. He seemed a little sad, but he definitely didn't look angry and that threw her.

"Hullo, luv," he said softly.

_Hullo, luv is good_, Hermione thought. "Hullo," she said cautiously. She crossed the room and stood beside him. "What are you looking at?"

"School pics," he said.

She could see that the page was open to a picture of the two of them taken seventh year. They were in the common room. Ron was sitting on one of the sofas and she was sitting on the floor between his legs facing the camera. The picture repeated him leaning over and kissing her and her laughing over and over again. "I love that one," she said.

"Me too," Ron said. "It's probably my favorite."

Hermione considered the picture. "We look like babies."

"We were babies, and I think that's the problem." Ron said sadly.

Hermione felt an icy chill race through her. "What do you mean?" she managed to choke out.

Ron turned to face her and put his hands on her hips. He looked up at her. "Just that I have a tendency to gloss over the part where we grew up."

Hermione pushed his fringe off his forehead. "I don't understand."

Ron pulled her to him until she sat in his lap. "Ever since we got back together, even after the World Cup when I should have known better, I've had this tendency to think of us in one unbroken stream."

Hermione struggled to follow his thinking.

"I skip the part where we were ever with other people," Ron explained.

"Oh," Hermione said softly.

"I realize now how stupid that is," Ron continued. "It just leaves me vulnerable to what happened today. And I realized when you brought up Michelle so casually, that you don't do that. You don't pretend that we were always together. Only I do that."

She ran her fingers through his beard and it occurred to her then, how much she missed seeing his face without it. She didn't know what to say to his confession; she didn't know how she felt about it even. Right now, she didn't care. She leaned down and pressed her lips to his, running her tongue between them, requesting entrance.

He opened his mouth to her and brought his hand up to cup her face and to stroke her earlobe between his thumb and forefinger, which made her feel warm all over. It was a gesture that was completely his. No one else she'd ever kissed did that, so it made her heart sing every time he did.

When he pulled out of the kiss he touched his forehead to hers. "When do we need to leave for the funeral?"

Hermione drew back from him. "We?"

"You shouldn't have to face it alone," Ron said, stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers. He shook his head sadly. "You've had to face too many deaths alone."

Hermione closed her eyes. "We should leave tomorrow."

Ron nodded. "Are you hungry? Winky's out done herself in the kitchen, so I gave her the evening off."

Hermione got off his lap and headed toward the kitchen. She was hungry and the whiskey sitting in her empty stomach wasn't helping matters.

"We're in the dining room tonight," Ron said.

She shifted directions and followed him. The dining room table was set with the best china, two intimate place settings. He tapped his wand against the table and dinner appeared in the plates. The candelabra suddenly lit and soft music began playing.

"She certainly did go all out," Hermione mused as she looked at the lamb chop, mint jelly, parsnips and chard that appeared on her plate. "I wonder what possessed her."

Run shrugged, but he was smiling.

Dinner passed mostly in a companionable silence, with just the occasional question and answer about travel plans. Hermione had already arranged for time off, a Portkey and a hotel room. Ron said he would send an owl to Finnegan after dinner. He informed her there was coffee and dessert, but Hermione patted her belly and begged off until later.

Ron sat back in his chair. "So what do you want to do?"

She smiled at him. "After a meal like that, I just want to lay down."

"Do you now?" Ron grinned.

He followed her to their bedroom, his hands on her hips as they climbed the stairs. "You wear such conservative robes to work," Ron commented.

Hermione was, in fact, in traditional charcoal gray wizarding robes that had a high collar and hung to the floor. "Well, they frown on the casual tart look at the Ministry, Ron."

"Yes, I imagine they do," Ron said as they reached the top of the stairs. "More's the pity. Although, I do like these robes."

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

Ron took her hand and led her into the bedroom. "You know what I like best about them?"

"I can't imagine," Hermione smiled.

Ron tapped her shoulder with his wand and said, "Deliquesco." Her robes disappeared leaving her standing in her underwear. "It's what you're always wearing under them."

She rolled her eyes. "It's underwear, Ron."

He ran his hand down her sides over the black silk camisole she was wearing. "Yes, I'm sure all the witches wear these." His hands slid over her hips and he slipped a finger under her garter belt. "And these."

"I don't like pantyhose," Hermione protested. "They make me feel like a sausage."

Ron cupped her sex, "And these lacy little knickers?"

"They're very comfortable, they don't bunch up."

Ron nodded, "They don't bunch up because there's hardly anything to them."

He was backing her slowly against the wall as he said this and Hermione didn't protest. She knew where this was going and it was just fine with her. When he slid his hands back up her sides and pushed her arms over her head she leaned back against the wall and relaxed. He held her wrists over her head with one hand as he slid the other inside her knickers.

She spread her legs a little wider to accommodate his fingers.

"Someone's a randy girl," Ron murmured as he kissed her neck.

Hermione let her head loll back against the wall. She liked it like this, persistent and hungry. Ron could go all night in this mood and it made her knees weak to think about it. He kept at her with his fingers, his teeth and tongue dancing across her neck until she was bucking and shuddering against him. When he let go of her wrists she found her legs wouldn't hold her, but he scooped her up then and placed her gently on the bed.

"I feel really bad about our row," Ron said quietly as he began unbuttoning his shirt.

Hermione watched him with languid eyes. "Me too," she said.

"I really want to make it up to you," he said, letting his shirt fall to the ground and unbuttoning his pants.

"Me too," Hermione agreed.

As he stepped out of his pants and toed off his shoes, his fingers went to her garter belt, unhooking it from her stockings. He rolled them slowly down her legs and then moved up to her knickers. She shifted her hips to make it easier for him to get them off. He left the camisole where it was and lay on his back next to her. "I think it's time you did a little work, don't you?"

Hermione smiled broadly. "What if I'm too lazy?"

Ron rolled on top of her suddenly. She lifted her knees to cradle him and without another word he pushed into her. She took in a sharp breath between clenched teeth. It was always like this with him. No matter how many times they were together, there was always a twinge of pain with his entrance if he was on top. "I am willing to accommodate laziness," he said. "But you might want to rethink this."

"Well," Hermione gasped. "You are a very large man."

Ron looked down at her and nodded his agreement. "Can't be helped," he smiled and then the oddest expression crossed his face. "Was it easier with Viktor?"

Hermione was shocked. He had never said Viktor's name in bed before, never had he allowed her past to intrude into such an intimate moment. She could feel the blood draining from her face and she wanted nothing more than to be out from under him, but he literally had her pinned to the mattress.

"I'm sorry," Ron said, as if it suddenly occurred to him what he'd just done. "I just always kind of wondered that. He's kind of a small guy when you think about it."

Hermione tried to get her emotions in check. He really did seem sorry, and she could see how something like that might weigh on Ron's mind. She didn't have much time to consider it though as her position shifted suddenly and the world rolled around. She found herself on her knees straddling Ron and looking down at him. She pressed her palm against his chest to secure her balance. She blinked, bit her bottom lip and said, "Easier doesn't mean better. After all" she said, tracing a thumb around his nipple, "when you learn to ride on a stallion, getting your own pony loses some of its appeal."

Ron grinned up at her, "What is it with you and ponies?"

She laughed and ground her hips against him. "You are a very bad man."

He laughed as he thrust up into her. "Yes, yes I am."

They were sitting in the kitchen some time later eating chocolate bombe with their fingers and drinking coffee.

"What time is our Portkey in the morning?"

"I got permission to make it myself, so we've got some flexibility. I would like to get there early though. I don't know Sofia that well, so we're going to have to go to Viktor's parent's house and then follow everyone to the funeral from there."

Ron was licking chocolate off his fingers. "That won't bother them?"

"What?" Hermione asked as she took a sip of coffee.

"Us showing up? They aren't cross about the breakup?"

Hermione hadn't considered that. She didn't know Viktor's parents well. He had never seemed particularly close to them. "Viktor suggested it, so I assume it will be fine."

Ron nodded. "All right then." 

Hermione picked up the plate the bombe was on and her coffee cup and set them in the sink. She took out her wand but Ron stopped her.

"Please don't clean the dishes," he said. "The last time you did that Winky cried to me for an hour about how you think she's rubbish. It took forever to sort her out."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "I don't think she's rubbish, she's an excellent house elf. It just seems rude to leave the dishes for her."

"Hermione, please. She doesn't think that way. Leave the bloody dishes, please, for me."

She sighed. "I think both of you are mental." But she left the dishes as they were and the ones from dinner as well.

Ron put his hands on her shoulders and began to steer her out of the kitchen. "Yes, luv," Ron said, "and you're a paragon of normalcy."


	5. The Funeral

Chapter 5: The Funeral

The next morning, when Ron stepped out of the shower, Hermione was leaning against the vanity waiting for him. She was wearing her dressing gown, and looking…he wasn't sure. She had a very strange expression on her face.

"Ron," she said softly as he toweled himself off.

"Yeah," Ron looked at her. She was biting her lip, which was a sure sign of uncertainty.

She reached out and touched his beard. "Have you ever considered…never mind." She turned to leave, but Ron caught her by the belt of her dressing gown.

"What?" he said as pulled her too him.

She didn't turn around. "I like the beard," she said softly, "but sometimes, I really miss your face."

He looked past her at his own reflection in the mirror. He'd grown accustomed to his whiskers. He's grown accustomed to not seeing the scar that ran along his jaw. The hair, of course, wouldn't grow there, but if he kept his beard long enough it covered the scar.

He leaned down and kissed her neck. "I'll think about it."

They finished getting ready and then Hermione performed the complicated spell to turn a teacup into a Portkey.

Ron felt the familiar tug behind his navel as the Portkey activated. It was the longest Portkey ride he'd ever taken and when they finally landed outside a small white house, it took him a moment to gain his bearings.

Hermione touched his arm, "All right, Ron?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "That took forever, I'm knackered."

"A long Portkey ride can really take it out of you. Make sure to drink some water when we get inside."

Ron nodded and followed her up the sidewalk and waited with their luggage in hand as she knocked on the small red door.

An elderly man answered. "Hermione," he said. The old man continued talking but Hermione's name was the last thing Ron understood.

Hermione stepped into the foyer and Ron followed. She said something in Bulgarian and gestured toward Ron, the man held his hand out and Ron shook it. _This is going to be a very long weekend_, Ron thought. He hadn't considered that everyone here, including Hermione, spoke Bulgarian but him.

Hermione turned to him. "He said Viktor will be along shortly to show us to the hotel."

An old woman came out of a back room with two glasses of water and handed them to Ron and Hermione. The old woman's eyes took in Ron and she gave Hermione a less than favorable look, so Ron guessed she was Viktor's mother. A moment later, Hermione introduced her as such.

Ron drank his water and tried not to feel too awkward standing around with their luggage in the foyer of Viktor's parent's house. No one had asked them to sit down. As he finished his water and wondered what they were supposed to do next, the telltale popping of Apparition sounded and Viktor appeared in the living room.

Viktor walked toward them, saying something that sounded rather harsh to his parents as he did so. He came over and hugged Hermione. Ron could hear her telling him how sorry she was. He pushed down the surge of jealousy that came from seeing Viktor's arms around her.

"Thank you so much for coming," Viktor said as he released her. He held his hand out to Ron, who shook it. "Really, it means a lot to me." He glared at his parents. "I'm sorry they didn't ask you to sit down, they –"

"We just got here," Hermione said. "Don't worry about it."

Viktor sighed. "Come on, I'll show you to the hotel."

Ron noted that Viktor's English was much better than it used to be, but he still had a heavy accent. Ron picked up their bags and followed Viktor and Hermione back outside. A small blue car was parked in front of the house and Viktor led them toward it. He opened the boot with his wand and Ron could immediately see that this was a charmed car since the boot looked large enough to hold several large trunks, so there was plenty of room for the two small bags he and Hermione had brought. As with the boot, the interior of the car was quite spacious despite its diminutive exterior.

"New car?" Hermione commented.

Viktor nodded. "Got it last month, the old one just wouldn't hold a charm anymore."

"Did you charm this one yourself?" Hermione asked.

Viktor shook his head. "My father is very good with mechanical charms, so he did it."

"He did a nice job," Ron said, feeling as though he should contribute something to the conversation.

"Thank you," Viktor said solemnly.

The drive to the hotel was mercifully brief. Ron was fascinated when they turned into what looked like a burned out garage. Viktor got out of the car tapped twice on a wall with his wand and said something in Bulgarian. The wall melted away. He got back in and drove them into a spacious car park. Clearly the hotel, which towered above them as a gigantic stucco structure, was one end of the Bulgarian equivalent to Diagon Alley. Ron got the bags out of the boot and followed Viktor and Hermione into the hotel. As they were checking in, Ron heard someone shout "Viktor!" in a French accent from the entrance.

Viktor turned around and blur of silver and blue threw herself at him. Viktor hugged Gabrielle fiercely as he spun her around. "You made it," he said holding her face in his hands.

"Of course, I made it. I told you I would," she said, touching his face gently. "I wouldn't leave you alone to face this."

He kissed her forehead. "But such a long way," he said, "and so much trouble to get a last minute Portkey."

"Please," Gabrielle shrugged. "What good is Fleur working for the Ministry if she can't get her sister a Portkey?"

Viktor hugged her close to him again. "I must send a thank you."

Ron looked at Hermione and frowned.

She smiled weakly at him and shrugged. She cleared her throat.

Viktor and Gabrielle looked up as if they suddenly realized they weren't alone. "Hullo," Gabrielle said amicably.

"Good to see you," Ron said. "Wish the circumstances were better," he added awkwardly.

Gabrielle nodded.

"We should put our things away," Hermione said. "What time should we meet you back here?"

Viktor looked at his watch. "In an hour."

"All right then," Hermione said.

Ron picked up their bags and followed her upstairs. Once inside the room, Ron let loose. "I told you they would hook up."

Hermione sighed. "So?"

"So? So? They'll probably get married now and we'll have to go to the bloody wedding and then he'll be part of the family," Ron said with exasperation.

"The very extended family," Hermione said. "And I didn't see a ring. Let's not put the cart before the horse, all right?"

Ron shook his head. "You just wait, we're going to be toasting their happiness in no time."

Hermione looked at him with that drop-it expression of hers.

"I'm taking a shower," Ron grumbled.

He stepped into the hot stream of water and let it sluice over him. He started to reconsider the Gabrielle/Krum situation. After all, if he was with Gabrielle, chances were that he was over Hermione. That was a good thing, right? And Hermione had a point, even if they did get married, it's not like they would be spending Christmas at the Burrow or anything. Ron turned off the water and pulled a towel off the rack to dry off. He caught his reflection in the mirror and stared at his beard. On impulse he reached for his wand.

A few minutes later, he stepped out of the lavatory clean and clean-shaven with a towel wrapped around his waist. Hermione had her back to him pulling on heavy black robes. Ron stood quietly watching her dress. As she was buttoning up the front of her robes she turned around and screamed.

Ron laughed as she clutched a hand to her chest.

"You scared me to death," Hermione panted.

"I thought you said you missed my face," Ron smiled. "I guess you forgot what it looked like."

"No," Hermione said, approaching him. "Just, a little warning would have been nice." She reached out and ran her fingers over his smooth cheek. "You look…younger."

Ron shrugged. "I feel kind of naked. Was my scar always this big?"

Hermione had both hands on his face now, and as her fingers traced the scar that ran the length of his jaw a tear slipped down her cheek.

"Oh, now, come on," Ron said, pulling her into a hug. "Shhh."

She pressed her face into his chest then pulled back. "I'm sorry." She wiped the tears from her face. "I just wasn't expecting…" She shook her head. "You should get dressed, we need to leave in a few minutes."

"I'm sorry," Ron said, reaching for his clothes. "I should have warned you. It looks pretty bad, yeah?"

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "No, no, it's not that at all. You're just so…" She touched his face again. "Beautiful."

Ron could feel himself blush. "Come on. I'm sure you mean that in a very manly, beefy bloke sort of way." He flexed his muscles.

Hermione nodded, running her hand over his chest. "Absolutely, you're a very beautiful, very manly, beefy sort of bloke."

Ron smiled and winked at her, but he finished getting dressed.

A few minutes later they met Gabrielle and Viktor in the lobby and Viktor drove them all to the funeral.

Ron tried not be in the way, and finally told Hermione she needn't bother trying to translate everything for him. There were a lot of people at the service and everyone was very upset. Todor had apparently been well loved and his sudden death at such a young age had hit everyone very hard. Viktor and Hermione both gave eulogies. Hermione's was very brief, and Ron was pretty sure it had been a poem, but since he didn't speak Bulgarian, he couldn't be sure. Finally, everyone filed past the grave. Those who knew Todor well picked up white roses from a basket and as they passed they would toss the flower on the coffin. Many of them said things as they did so. When it was Ron and Hermione's turn, Hermione said softly, "You should have asked me first," and dropped her rose into the grave. There were tears streaming down her face as they walked back to Viktor's car. The ride to Pietra and Todor's house was silent. Ron spent the next two hours in a daze as everyone around him spoke Bulgarian. Even Gabrielle seemed to know enough to get by, although she didn't speak much and just stood next to Viktor, holding his hand as others spoke to him. Hermione talked to Pietra for a long time, both of them crying. Ron was relieved when Viktor finally suggested they go back to the hotel. He and Hermione hugged Pietra one last time before they left. The cold night air was a relief. The house had too many people in it and was stuffy and hot. The ride back to the hotel was as silent as the ride from the funeral had been, the only difference being that Gabrielle was pressed tightly against Viktor and he had his arm around her. Ron and Hermione in the back seat were in much the same pose.

As it turned out they were all staying on the same floor of the hotel on opposite ends of the hall. At the top of the stairs, before they parted ways, Viktor said to Hermione, "I'm glad you're here."

She squeezed his hand. "I'm glad I came."

As they walked back to their room, Ron felt a curious sense of closure, as if Hermione had buried a bit of her past today.

He was barely inside the room before she turned to him, her hands sliding up his chest and pulling him down into a kiss. Ron knew this dance, this sex as an expression of living, that sadly they'd played out many times in their relatively short lives. He knew she'd want it faster than she was really ready to take it, so he worked to slow her down. He stilled her hands and undressed her, pacing himself. She calmed down somewhat when she saw he was determined to take it slow and let him lead. Ron let his hands and mouth take a thorough tour of her body. He brought her off with just his fingers as his mouth lavished attention on her breasts. She shuddered against him, but recovered quickly.

"That was fast," Ron grinned.

Hermione shrugged. "One of those days." She pushed him over on his back and straddled him. "My turn," she smiled.

She started with just a soft kiss against his lips, but instead of deepening it, she began to pepper his face with soft kisses on his forehead, his eyelids, his nose and chin, finally she reached the scar and ran her tongue along the length of it. A shiver ran through his whole body.

"Blimey," he whispered, "that was intense."

Hermione nodded. "Every time."

Ron closed his eyes, realizing that he did that to her a lot, ran his tongue along one of her scars.

He looked up at her and ran a hand along her thigh. "Let me in." She scooted down his body until she could shift her hips and get him inside. He thrust up into her and smiled as she took his length. Suddenly, he wanted to say a million things to her. He wanted to tell her how happy he was to be married to her, how much he loved her, how much he loved having his cock buried inside her, how impressed he was with everything she could do, how proud he was that she picked him, how sorry he was that he'd ever let her go, but none of the words would form. So he gripped her hips and started to stroke in and out of her in a slow rhythm. She let him go for a moment and then began to match him stroke for stroke, and he wanted to tell her how no one had ever been as good with him as she was. He wanted to say the other women could never really get in sync like her, it was always just a little off, or they'd just lie there and let him do all the work, but all that came out was "I love to fuck you."

She smiled down at him, "You say such sweet things, Ron, but the feeling's mutual." She clenched herself tighter around him.

"You're bloody brilliant," he groaned. He pressed his thumb between them and held it against her giving her something to grind against.

"That's what they tell me," she said through clenched teeth.

"Oh," Ron growled. "For that you're on your knees." He slipped out of her and dragged her to the side of the bed.

"Ron!" she started to protest but then he slid back in and wrapped his arm around her hips pulling her tight against him. Her protest dissolved into a stream of nonsense syllables. He wasn't going to last long like this. He moved his fingers between her legs and just pressed, all his finesse long gone. She didn't seem to mind. As she started to fall apart, Ron pounded into her, letting go of rhythm in favor of need. He spilled into her and they both collapsed on the bed. Ron leaned over and kissed her back, then reached for his wand and cast a cleansing charm on both of them. He stretched and looked at Hermione.

She reached out and placed a warm hand on his chest. "I love you so much."

He picked her hand up and kissed it. "The feeling's mutual." He stood and pulled the sheets back and she rolled over and under them. He got in on the other side. As her breathing evened out to a slow deep rhythm, Ron realized he wouldn't be able to sleep.


	6. Pub Conversations

Chapter 6: Pub Conversations

Ron made his way down to the hotel pub. Hermione might be able to sleep, but something about funerals made sleeping feel too much like dying to him, so he found himself restless as Hermione dropped off. He didn't want to wake her, so he thought a couple of drinks at the pub might be just the fix he needed.

The pub was nearly empty, probably because it was late afternoon and people were still at work. At first, Ron was relieved by this, but then he saw Viktor sitting at a table by himself with a bottle of Vodka in front of him. Viktor saw him too and gestured for him to join him. _Well, at least he speaks English_, Ron thought and sat down across from him.

Viktor waved a hand at the barkeep and said something in Bulgarian. The barkeep brought a shot glass over and set it in front of Ron. Ron started to protest that he only wanted a pint, but then thought better of it. _What the hell, when in Rome._

Viktor poured him a shot. "Where is Hermione?"

"Upstairs taking a nap," Ron said and downed the shot. The Vodka was surprisingly smooth and went down a lot easier than he expected.

"That's what Gabrielle is doing," Viktor said, giving Ron a knowing look. He poured Ron another shot and one for himself. "What is it about funerals that make women so horny?"

Ron shrugged and downed his drink. "Don't know exactly. Maybe all that death makes them want to feel alive."

Viktor downed his own shot and poured another one for each of them. "I used to think it was just Hermione, but no, Gabrielle is just the same."

The vodka was spreading warmly throughout Ron's belly. "Yeah, Hermione's always been like that. First time I ever felt her up was after Dumbledore's funeral."

Viktor laughed. "You two really have been together a long time."

Ron nodded. "Thirteen years. Well, ten, I guess. She was with you for three of them."

Viktor shook his head. "She was never really with me. She lived with me. She slept with me, but she was never really in love with me." He poured them each another drink.

Ron, for some reason, felt himself offended on Hermione's behalf. "That's not true, I know her, she wouldn't have stayed with you if she hadn't loved you."

Viktor laughed. "Love, that's a little word that means too many things. Our kind of love was not romantic. It was comfort, support. We, how do you say? Shored each other up."

Ron wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he tossed back his drink by way of reply.

"I was lucky to run into her in that market. I don't know how I would have survived Nikolina's death without her. I really don't."

"Nikolina?" Ron asked, pouring them each another shot.

"My fiancé, she was killed by Death Eaters for no good reason."

"Like Hermione's parents." Ron said softly.

"Yes," Viktor said, and drank his shot. "Senseless loss was most of what we had in common."

Ron nodded. He noticed he couldn't really feel his feet.

"She looks good." Viktor was starting to slur his words just a little. Clearly, he had quite a head start on Ron.

Ron nodded again. Hermione did look good.

"She's put on some weight, she needed that. She was always too thin when we were together. Todor used to pick on her about that, of course, he picked on her about everything. That was just his way."

"I'm sorry about Todor," Ron said. "He must have been pretty brave though, if he was tough enough to pick on Hermione."

Viktor smiled. "In the beginning, he was just stupid. He underestimated her. Of course, it wasn't entirely his fault. I mean she didn't tell him what she did because you know, so I guess he thought she was like a little princess, pretty and talented but frivolous. I remember he used to call her my English queen, and he would salute her whenever he saw her. She ignored him until one day we were at my flat. He and Pietra had come to visit and we got on the subject of politics and the war. Well, I can't remember the comment he made, but it was stupid and unfavorable to English wizards, and it must have struck a nerve, because the next thing I know, she's transfigured him into a mouse and stuck him in an jar. Pietra had gone out shopping with a friend. And Hermione gave her this little mouse when she got home and said 'do you want him like he was, because I can leave him like this.'"

Ron was laughing. "Now that's my girl."

Viktor laughed too. "He did not underestimate her after that, but he still teased her until we went on vacation the first time."

Ron downed another shot. "What did she do to him then?"

"Nothing, but until then he didn't know about her in the war."

Ron looked at Viktor. "How could he not know? I thought everyone knew."

Viktor shrugged. "Everyone knows about Harry. But Todor was careless about keeping track of the news. Harry Potter is a name everyone knows, but your name, Hermione's name, those you had to pay attention to hear. So, he did not know."

Ron pushed his fingers back through his hair. He was sweating and his hair was a little damp. "So how did he find out?"

"Well, we were in France on vacation and Todor had this grand idea to go fishing. So we asked the girls did they want to go, but it was the first day and Hermione was exhausted. She'd had a very rough week at the Ministry, channeling a lot of magic, so you know how she gets."

Ron nodded.

"She said no, she wanted to relax. Pietra agreed and said they would sunbathe while we went fishing. So we go down to this pier, but it takes forever because Todor does not have the right directions, so we get there late and miss the boat."

Ron snickered.

"I know, typical," Viktor said, and swallowed back his vodka. "So we go all the way back to the hotel. Well, the girls went down to the beach, so when we got back we had to find them." Viktor stopped and looked at Ron. "I never saw him look so shocked. He was actually speechless, and I can't tell you how not like him that is." He shook his head.

Ron wasn't sure if he might be drunk and missed something or if Viktor was drunk and forgot to say something. "What?" he asked.

"She fell asleep on the beach and the charm wore off, so you could see the scars."

"Hang on," Ron said, struggling to follow, "why would she…?"

"You know how France is," Viktor said, slapping the table. "Everybody sunbathes nude there. Hermione would always do a charm to hide her scars when we went to the beach. Actually, sometimes she would hide them at other times too, but Todor had never seen them. He had no idea." Viktor shook his head. "He touched her side, where the really bad one is, and of course, she woke up. Furious." Viktor blew out a long breath. "That temper, I don't miss it. Of course, I understand why she was angry. She was very sensitive about, you know, what happened in Amsterdam, not to mention the scars themselves, so that he put his hand on her was a huge affront, but, of course, Pietra was right there, so she could not say the things she might have said. Pietra did not know about Amsterdam, still doesn't actually, so Hermione held her tongue, but she was very angry."

Ron looked at him, and poured them both another shot. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted to hear the rest of this story. Some part of him felt like he needed to hear about this Hermione he didn't know.

"She went back to the hotel, and later that night, after dinner we were all sitting out on the balcony of our suite watching the ocean and Todor said, 'tell me what happened to you.' And she did. She told us all. Pietra cried. I thought I might cry too, but Todor just sat there with his mouth open. It's so different hearing a first hand account. The papers really leave out a lot."

Ron nodded. Suddenly self-conscious, he stroked his chin wishing he had his beard back to cover the scar.

"Todor was not the same with her after that. He still teased her some, but much gentler, almost reverent. He respected her too. They often talked very seriously about magic." Viktor tossed back another shot. "I wish he'd talked to her before his last spell. She would have told him not to do it. He might even have listened."

Ron took another sip of vodka. "He sounds like a good guy."

"He was a good friend, crazy, but good. I will miss him."

They sat in silence for a long time sipping their drinks.

Ron leaned back in his chair and stretched. "So when have you got to be back with the team?"

Viktor scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'm supposed to be back for practice day after tomorrow, but I promised Gabrielle we could stop and see her parents before we go back to London."

Ron nodded. "Gabrielle, she's a pretty little thing."

"Yes," Viktor nodded. "But I know what you're thinking. She's too young for me."

Ron shrugged. He hadn't been thinking that actually. He hadn't really been thinking anything. Thinking was hard. But now that Viktor brought it up. Gabrielle was too young for him. "Yeah," he said.

"You're right," Viktor said, but then his face split into an uncharacteristic grin. "But I don't care." He laughed.

Ron laughed too.

"She is like a ray of light in the darkness. I don't care if she's young, she makes me happy."

Ron nodded. "I know just what you mean. Getting Hermione back was like sunshine after a thousand rainy days."

"Yes," Viktor declared. "Gabrielle is like sunshine."

"To sunshine!" Ron said, and clinked his shot glass against Viktor's.


	7. Yours and Mine

Chapter 7: Yours and Mine

Hermione wasn't sure of the time when she woke, but it was dark outside. There was a piece of parchment on the pillow next to her. In Ron's scrawling handwriting was written:

_H.,_

_Went to the hotel pub. Didn't want to wake you._

_Love you,_

_R._

Hermione got out of bed and went to clean up. She had no idea when Ron left the note, but when he still wasn't back by the time she got out of the shower, she decided she might as well join him in the pub.

As she walked down the hallway she saw Gabrielle approaching from the other end. They met at the stairwell.

"Where are you off to?" Gabrielle asked amicably.

"Ron left a note he was down at the pub, so I thought I'd join him."

Gabrielle smiled, "Then I will follow you. My suspicion is that Viktor is also there."

Hermione smiled back at her, but inside she didn't like the idea of Viktor and Ron in the pub together. She hoped that if they were together things were going smoothly. As they approached the pub they could hear singing and as they turned the corner they could see that it was quite packed. Ron towered above the other people in the bar, and Hermione was shocked to see one of his arms draped over Viktor's shoulders while the other was draped over the shoulders of a stout old witch, who appeared to be having a fine time. The entire place was singing a Bulgarian folksong and it didn't seem to bother Ron at all that he didn't know the words.

Gabrielle clasped a hand over her mouth and giggled.

"Well, this is unexpected." Hermione commented.

As the song finished, Viktor called for another round.

"They're completely pissed," Gabrielle laughed.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, they are. Well, what do you say? You take yours, I'll take mine."

Gabrielle nodded. "I suppose we should before they fall over and break something."

They threaded their way through the crowd until they reached Ron and Viktor. "Hullo," Hermione said looking up at Ron.

"Hermione," Ron said, his face lighting up. He wrapped his arms around her. "I love you."

She smiled at him. "I love you too, let's go upstairs."

"All right then," Ron said happily.

She began to steer him toward the door and could see Gabrielle to her right doing the same with Viktor.

As they crossed the lobby, Ron lurched forward, unsteady on his feet. Hermione pressed a hand against his chest to help him balance.

"You've really got your hands full," Gabrielle commented. "Do you want me to put Viktor to bed and then come back and help you?"

Hermione laughed. "No, I'm fine. We've done this dance before, although it's been ages."

Ron nuzzled the top of her head. "I love your hair."

"I know," Hermione said patiently as they started up the stairs.

"I love these too," he said clasping her breasts.

An elderly witch passing by glared at them.

Hermione pushed his hands down to her waist. "I know, but we're not going to touch them here, because we're in public."

Ron giggled. "Oops, sorry."

Hermione was relieved when they reached the top of the stairs. Viktor and Gabrielle were right behind them. Viktor turned to her and cupped Gabrielle's chin.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Viktor asked.

Hermione smiled at Gabrielle. "Yes, she is."

"And so sweet," Viktor said, touching his forehead to Gabrielle's. "She makes me so happy."

"I'm so glad for you, Viktor."

He grinned at her. "I am glad for you too."

Hermione nodded. "Good night, Viktor." He nodded.

"Good night," Gabrielle said, "and good luck."

"You too," Hermione said.

She managed to wrangle Ron into the room without too much difficulty. He plopped down on the bed and grinned at her. "Hey," he said in a way that she was sure was supposed to be sexy but just made her want to laugh. She pulled his shirt over his head and reached for his belt.

"You're very frisky," he smiled.

Hermione smiled. "Yes, that's me. Stand up now."

He struggled to his feet and wagged his hips at her as she pulled his trousers down. "You going to give me a knob job?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think so. Not right now. Why don't you lie down?"

He sat back heavily on the bed and caught his reflection in the mirror over the dresser. "I miss my beard," he said sadly.

Hermione unlaced his shoes and began tugging them off. "I'm sorry, Ron. You can grow it back."

He nodded at her. "I'm going to. I don't like looking at the scar. It reminds me and I don't like it."

She looked up at him and touched his cheek. His face crumpled. "Please don't cry," she said softly. "If you want, I can do a hair-growing hex on your chin."

Ron shook his head and pulled her to him pressing his face between her breasts. "They hurt us bad," he mumbled against her chest.

"I know," Hermione whispered, feeling a tear slip down her cheek.

"Then we hurt each other."

"I know," she murmured as she kissed the top of his head.

"I don't want to do that anymore."

"No," Hermione said, soothing her fingers through his hair. "We won't do that anymore."

"I love you so much," he said, leaning back to look at her.

"I love you too," she said, and kissed him softly on the mouth. "Lie down now, and go to sleep all right."

"Will you come to bed too?"

She nodded, "I'll be right there."

"Don't leave me."

"I won't leave you," she said softly, "I'm right here."

Ron lay down and she undressed and got in beside him, pulling the covers over both of them.

He was so drunk he was sweating alcohol, but he clung tightly to her. Some part of him, she thought, must have remembered the last time he was this drunk with her. That night she'd left him and he seemed determined even in his sleep not to let her go this time. She didn't resist his hold, but the memory was pervasive for her as well, and tears streamed down her cheeks.

Marks had always meant a great deal to Hermione, and even though she knew she shouldn't, she still remembered every less than perfect mark she'd ever received. Even out of school, she kept mental marks for things she did. For a long time, she felt like she'd failed Ron. That somehow, if she'd been stronger, she could have made things work. She'd known that Viktor was the worst choice if she ever hoped to get back with Ron, but at the time, she'd lost all hope, and simply couldn't bear to be alone. Viktor had offered a shelter she couldn't refuse. As she lay there in the dark with Ron wrapped tightly around her she felt a kind of catharsis, as though that entire period of her life was laid to rest alongside Todor.


	8. About Those Pictures

Chapter 8: About Those Pictures

Hermione awoke at six the next morning just as she always did, or rather she awoke at six o'clock, London time. In Bulgaria it was eight o'clock. Ron was sacked out on his back, snoring loudly. Hermione rolled her eyes and went to take a shower.

He was still asleep when she came back into the room. She dressed quietly and left him a note that she'd gone downstairs to get something to eat. She was starving. She hadn't eaten since breakfast the previous morning with the exception of a couple of bites of finger food right after the funeral.

As she walked into the hotel dining room she was surprised to see Viktor sitting at a table by himself perusing a menu. She struggled with herself for a moment. On the one hand, a big part of her really wanted to finish the conversation they'd started at the World Cup before Ron interrupted them. On the other hand, she wondered if it wasn't a better policy at this point, to let sleeping dogs lie. She shrugged her shoulders and started walking toward his table. Who was she kidding? She'd never let sleeping dogs lie in her life.

"Viktor," she said pleasantly as she approached his table. "I'm surprised to see you up so early after last night's escapades."

Viktor looked up at her. "You know me, I'm an early riser regardless of how I spent the night before. Would you like to join me?" He indicated the chair opposite him.

Hermione sat down and turned her coffee cup over. A large coffee pot came soaring toward her and filled it. "Where's Gabrielle this morning?"

"She likes to sleep in," Viktor said, turning his own cup over to be filled. He stared at his plate and gave his order. A moment later cheese and bread and yoghurt appeared on his plate.

Hermione followed suit and the same traditional Bulgarian breakfast appeared for her. They ate for a moment in silence before Hermione cleared her throat. "Since we have a moment alone," she started. "I need to ask you something."

"About the pictures?" Viktor asked.

Hermione sighed. "About the negatives actually. I searched through all the boxes that I brought from your flat and didn't see them."

"Because I burned them, years ago." Viktor said, smearing some white cheese on a piece of bread.

"Then why didn't you burn the pictures too?" Hermione asked, exasperated.

"Todor asked me not to," Viktor said simply as though that answer made all the sense in the world.

"Why would he…?" Hermione couldn't even finish the sentence. "They were dangerous to all of us."

Viktor nodded. "He stopped doing drugs after what happened in Amsterdam. He got Pietra to come back to him. He asked me to keep them, so that if he ever slipped again, I could show him proof of where he'd end up."

"And did you?" Hermione asked.

"What?"

"Ever have to show them to him?"

Viktor nodded. "Several times. Heroin is a very hard habit to leave behind."

Hermione closed her eyes. "Heroin is hard to leave behind even when it's not a habit."

Viktor shrugged. "I wouldn't know."

Hermione glared at him. She hated how sanctimonious he could be sometimes. "Right, I forgot you never do anything wrong."

He looked up at her sharply. "I did plenty wrong that week. I think we both know that."

"Right, but you didn't smoke heroin." Hermione mumbled as she pushed at her yoghurt with a spoon.

"I would have stopped you, but I wasn't in the room at the time or do you not remember?" Viktor said impatiently.

"Oh, I remember. I seem to remember you taking advantage of the perks though, you and Todor both as I recall."

"I would never have allowed that had I known that article was not true."

"Oh, I see, so it was okay to share me because I'd been shared before." Hermione pressed a hand to her mouth and shut her eyes.

"You were stoned, I was drunk, everyone was drunk or stoned or both. Afterward when I realized that you weren't all right with it; that I was not all right with it. I got us out of there as soon as I could. I have never been as angry at Todor as I was then. I got the pictures and the negatives. What more do you want from me?"

Hermione sighed. She didn't want to argue about this anymore. "Nothing, it's over now. The pictures are gone."

"Yes," Viktor said sadly. "And so is Todor, and everyone else that was there, except you and me. That's weird, no?"

"It's very weird," Hermione agreed. She shook her head. "It's like it happened to someone else. Like I wasn't really there, like it was a dream, a nightmare."

Viktor nodded. "I know what you mean. Right now, it's hard to imagine I was ever that man."

Hermione sipped her coffee and they both sat silent for a long time. She finished her yoghurt and then waved to a house elf. When he came over she asked him in Bulgarian if he could bring her a cup of coffee to take up to her room for Ron.

"That's a good idea," Viktor said, and asked the elf for one for Gabrielle.

"You two seem happy," Hermione commented as they took the coffees from the elf and started back toward their rooms.

"Yes," Viktor said. "But she is probably too young for me."

Hermione shrugged. "She's a grown woman," she said as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "Why don't you let her decide that?"

Viktor laughed softly. "Yes, I think I will." He looked at her. "I also think it will be a long time before I see you again."

Hermione nodded. "I think that's probably true."

He reached out and hugged her and kissed her cheek. "You saved me," he whispered.

She stepped back and squeezed his hand, "You saved me first." She noticed that the hotel apothecary was just down the hall. "I'm going this way," she said.

They smiled sadly at each other, and she watched Viktor walk up the stairs for a moment before going to see if the apothecary sold hangover potion.


	9. Victory in Europe

Chapter 9: Victory in Europe

Ron was in the shower when Hermione arrived back at their room. She set the coffee and the potion on the dresser, and started packing her clothes.

When Ron came out of the shower, he was holding his head and looked as though he'd been on the wrong end of a Bludger all night. "Morning," he groaned miserably. He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed.

Hermione picked up the hangover potion and walked over to stand between his knees. "Who loves you?" she asked as she held out the potion.

"Oh," Ron said, reaching for the little brown bottle. "You're the best wife ever."

"Yes, yes I am." Hermione smiled as he drank the thick liquid and relief was immediately evident on his features. "And I brought coffee."

He pulled her to him in a hug, burying his face between her breasts. "I love you."

Hermione laughed. "I love you too."

Ron stood up and reached for the coffee. He took a sip and then asked, "How was breakfast?"

"Fine," Hermione said. "I ate with Viktor. Apparently Gabrielle also likes to sleep in."

Ron nodded and sipped his coffee.

Hermione waited for the inevitable comment.

"What time are we leaving?" Ron asked.

She looked at him. "Um, whenever you're ready I can activate the Portkey."

"I'm not in a rush. I'd at least like to finish my coffee."

Hermione smiled at him. Not for the first time since last night, she wondered what he and Viktor had talked about, but she was determined not to tempt fate by asking. And if Ron no longer felt the need to throw a jealous fit every time Viktor's name was mentioned, then she could certainly live with not knowing.

"What?" Ron asked.

"I was just thinking," Hermione smiled coyly. "What was it you asked for last night?"

Ron's eyes narrowed as he tried to think. Clearly he couldn't remember.

Hermione reached for the towel wrapped around his waist and tugged.

She sank to her knees in front of him. He sighed as she took him in her mouth. For some reason, whenever she did this he kept thinking of the phrase _head girl giving me head_, which made him grin

She had one hand on his thigh and the other cupping his balls and it was pretty evident she was intending to take him all the way like this. "Hey," he said, stroking her cheek. "As much as I like this, it's not really going to help us on the baby front."

She looked up at him, and slowly drew her mouth off him. The air in the room was unbearably cold by comparison. _Why did he just tell her to stop?_

"Front?" she said, clearly amused. "You make it sound like a war."

"It is a war," he said, pulling her to him. "And my boys are determined to win."

"I think –" Hermione started to say something but Ron cut her off with a kiss. _She thinks too much_, he thought and rolled her over on the bed. He took his time, he never wanted to have perfunctory make-a-baby sex, especially since there was no way of knowing how long that might take, if it ever happened at all. They hadn't had the conversation of what to do if it didn't happen. They hadn't been trying long enough for that, but they both knew there were no guarantees. The curse that had left her so deeply scarred on her side had done a great deal of internal damage. The healers hadn't been particularly helpful. They'd said it was possible for her to have a baby just not especially likely. Ron hadn't been nearly as discouraged as Hermione had been. He was, after all, a Weasley. He had a great deal of faith in his virility. As for Hermione, he knew for a fact that she'd successfully defied the odds more than once and he saw no reason for her not to do so now.

It was late in the afternoon when they arrived back in London. Winky was delighted to see them and sent their bags straight to their room, and started making tea. Ron and Hermione went into the parlor where Ron used his wand to start the fire. Horatio, just realizing they were home came tearing into the parlor and began winding his way around Hermione's legs purring loudly. She smiled and bent to scratch his head.

"Do want a drink?" Ron asked as he pulled a bottle of ale from the bar.

Hermione walked over to the window to watch the weather outside. She smoothed a hand over her stomach and smiled. "I think I'd better not," she said softly.

Ron came to stand behind her. "Winky's making tea," he said.

"I should probably ease up on the caffeine as well," she smiled.

"Nasty weather," Ron said.

Hermione looked at the snow blowing hard through the streets. "I think it's lovely."

"You're in a strange mood." Ron said, resting his chin on her head.

"I'm feeling rather triumphant actually," she mused. "Rather like V-E Day."

"V-E Day? Is that some sort of Muggle holiday?"

Hermione smiled at his confusion. "Victory in Europe, you know, when the Allies won the war."

"Wizards weren't really-"

She could practically hear the gears click in his head.

"Are you serious?" Ron said, his eyes widening in surprise.

She nodded, and slid her hand over her still flat stomach. He covered her hand with his.

"Then you're right," he said as he kissed her neck. "It is a lovely day."

She watched the snow swirl around the street and felt her life spin out in front of her. It felt right to be building a family with Ron. She felt safe and loved with his arms around her and she couldn't think of a better place for a child than right here with them.

"This is going to be brilliant," Ron said softly in her ear.

Hermione just smiled.

Acknowledgements:

I would like to thank Harpinred and BBennett for beta reading these stories.

The title of the story comes from **Seasons in the Sun** by Terry Jacks.

The title of chapter 1 comes from **Days of Wine and Roses** by Frank Sinatra.

The title of chapter 3 comes from **Pepper** by the Butthole Surfers.

The title of chapter 4 comes from the title of a painting by Jack Vettriano.

Apologies to Sarah MacLachlan for using the imagery from her **Fallen** video to describe Ron and Hermione's breakup.


End file.
